Ephesians
by paperstorm
Summary: Part of my Delted Scenes series. The tag for 'The Real Ghostbusters', 5x9. Wincest.


**Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page. They will make more sense if read in order. :)**

* * *

_For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers of this dark world._

_Ephesians 6:12_

"She said his name was Crowley?"

Sam nods. "She did."

"Like, Mr. Crowley? Like the Ozzy song?"

Sam smiles a little and shrugs. "I don't know. Probably not."

"Did she say where to find him?"

"No. She just told me Bela gave the Colt to him before she died."

"Why would she do that? Who is this guy?"

Sam shrugs again. "I have no idea. That's just what Becky said. And she read it in the books, so it must be true, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Dean pauses and frowns. "Dude, isn't that kinda important? Bela's been dead for, what, like a year and a half? We could've used the Colt a hundred times since then. Why didn't Chuck tell us this a really long time ago?"

"Apparently he'd forgotten about it. He sees everything we ever do. I guess that's a lot of stuff to keep in your head when it isn't even your own life."

"Let's not go there. My skin is _still_ crawling, thinking that he maybe knows … y'know, _everything_."

"He does," Sam mutters bitterly.

"What?" Dean looks at him with an alarmed expression on his face. "Did he say that?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"The first time we met him."

"You never told me that."

"I know. I don't remember why." Sam thinks for a moment. "I think we were fighting that day. About Ruby, or Lilith, or something. Maybe both. I didn't wanna piss you off even more."

"That's … alright, well, now I'm gonna have nightmares every night until I'm dead."

"It can't be _that _much of a surprise," Sam points out, even though he feels as violated as Dean does about the whole thing. "He sees everything else. Why would that one thing be filtered out?"

Dean shakes his head slowly, like he's trying to process the new information. Then he shudders a little, and changes the subject back to what they'd originally been discussing. "So, this is an actual lead. Like, a real one. If we find this demon, Crowley, we can get our hands on the Colt."

"And then use it on the Devil." Sam looks at his brother. All thoughts of Chuck knowing way too much slip away to make room for the idea that this could actually work; that they could really _win_. Nerves and anticipation course through his veins and leave him feeling electric inside.

"You think we can really do this?"

"Hell yeah, I do," Sam says enthusiastically. "It's the one thing that can kill everything, right? And all we need to do is get close enough to him to use it."

"And what if he sees that comin' from a mile away, and decides to just snap his fingers and turn us to dust the second he sees us?"

"He won't hurt me," Sam reasons. "He needs me. So we figure out where he's gonna be next, I get him talking, and you pop him from behind."

Dean exhales and then raises his eyebrows a little. "Huh. That … I mean, it's simple, but … it's actually not a terrible plan."

Sam laughs a little. "Thanks."

"No, I just mean – "

"I know what you mean."

"So any thoughts on how we find Crowley, idea man?"

"Can't we just summon him?"

"He's not gonna bring the Colt with him if we do that, though. And then what? We can't just ask him for it nicely. If he finds out that's what we want, we'll never see it again."

"Right." Sam bites the inside of his cheek. "Well, if he's in possession of the one thing that can kill the Devil, Chuck can't be the only one who knows about it. Wouldn't other demons make it their business to know stuff like that?"

"Maybe. It's worth a shot."

"Should we call Bobby?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

* * *

"Kay, sounds good," Dean says into his cell phone.

Sam's in the bathroom brushing his teeth, he pokes his head out of the doorway to hear the rest of the conversation. Dean catches his eye and grins, tapping the corner of his mouth, jokingly saying there's something on Sam's face. Sam flips his brother a quick middle finger, and then grabs the hand towel to wipe the toothpaste off his lips.

"We'll head out first thing in the morning," Dean's voice continues. "Ohio. Yeah, not exactly close. It'll take us a couple hours."

Sam spits into the sink and rinses his mouth out. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, and unbuttons and steps out of his jeans, gathering them up in his hands and leaving the bathroom. He feels Dean's eyes on him, but Sam just smiles to himself and shoves his dirty clothes into their laundry bag.

"Okay. Yeah. See you then." Dean ends the call and puts his phone back in his pocket.

"Bobby got any ideas?" Sam asks.

"One or two," Dean answers with a casual shrug. "He's gonna think on it."

"Good."

Sam goes back to his own duffle bag and roots around in it for a clean shirt. He finds one and pulls it out, and then Dean's hands slide over his bare hips and Sam feels soft lips pressing in between his shoulder blades.

"Leave it off," Dean murmurs.

Sam smiles again. "Okay." He turns around and wraps his arms around Dean's waist, and Dean slides his hands up Sam's chest to the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It's slow and lazy and it makes Sam's knees weak. Dean lets their lips fall apart after a minute but doesn't let go of Sam; their foreheads resting together and mouths hovering an inch apart.

"Hey," he murmurs.

Sam reaches up with one hand, cupping Dean's cheek and dragging his thumb over Dean's bottom lip. "Hi."

"How's your, uh … problem?"

"Should be fine now. Why?"

"You know why. It's been almost two weeks." Dean somehow manages to make complaining the most seductive thing Sam's heard in a long time.

"Horny?" Sam asks with a grin.

"Mm," Dean hums. He plays with the hair at the nape of Sam's neck and kisses the corner of his lips. "Among other things."

Sam nudges Dean's knee with his own, guiding him backwards toward the bed. "What other things?"

Dean doesn't answer for a minute. He turns them around and gently pushes Sam down onto the bed. He quickly rids himself of his clothes, so he's down to just boxer-briefs like Sam is, and then crawls on top of Sam and settles down over him, resting on his elbows and kissing Sam. Then he whispers, so quietly Sam's not sure even _he_ was meant to hear it, "Missed you."

"Me too," he whispers back. He drags his hands up Dean's back, digging his blunt nails in just a little. "So, hey, speaking of the world's douchiest witch, I've been meaning to ask you. Is Bobby okay?"

"You wanna talk about Bobby right now?" Dean rolls his hips down into Sam's; the heat and pressure sends blood flying straight to Sam's cock.

"I'm just worried about him."

"He's okay. He's pissed that he's in a chair, that the world is ending around him and he feels like he can't do anything to help us."

"Did you tell him that's bullshit?"

"'Course I did."

"Did he believe you?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Okay. Good."

Dean drops his head down to mouth wetly at Sam's neck, slowly working his way up towards Sam's ear and then along his jaw and back to his lips. He rocks just slightly against Sam as he kisses him, their growing erections rubbing together between worn cotton and hard muscle and it makes Sam dizzy way faster than it should. His whole body heats up in arousal, needy and aching for Dean like he always is, even when it hasn't been as long since the last time. Sam lost the ability to control himself around his brother a decade ago, and he couldn't give a damn about it.

He pushes his tongue into Dean's mouth and swirls it around Dean's slowly before pulling back – just to tease, to make Dean as desperate for it as Sam is. Dean nips at Sam's bottom lip and then he rolls his hips down harder, slower, to make them both moan.

"So, if I put that big cock of yours in my mouth," Dean starts, soft and husky and deliberately trying to drive Sam crazy, "and suck it until you come down my throat, I'm not gonna catch anything?"

"Fuck," Sam breathes, his eyes falling closed. "No. Should be okay."

Dean hums again. He pushes himself up to his hands and knees, hovering over Sam and trailing the tip of his nose along Sam's cheek. "Maybe I will, then. Just to make sure."

Sam shivers. He grabs Dean's face and kisses him hard, but Dean only lets their lips slide together for a minute before he breaks the kiss and starts moving down Sam's body. He places small kisses on Sam's chest as he goes and brushes his fingers over a nipple. He drags his teeth lightly along Sam's hip when he gets lower, and Sam lets his legs fall open wider so Dean can settle between them. He pushes up to his elbows to watch, wishing Dean would touch him. Sam's cock throbs in his boxers in anticipation, but Dean still takes his time. He licks along the skin just above the waistband, purposely avoiding Sam's erection just to amp him up. Sam reaches down and smoothes his fingers through Dean's hair; halfway between impatient and content to let Dean go slow.

Finally Dean lowers his head and mouths at Sam's cock through the fabric of his underwear, and the contact is light and barely there and it still has Sam moaning. It's been _way_ too long. Dean sucks at the head until the material under his mouth is damp, rubbing the heel of his palm up and down the shaft, pressing just hard enough to have tremors of pleasure shooting through Sam's veins.

"I'm growin' old up here," he complains finally, when he can't take it anymore.

Dean grins. "Patience is – "

"A virtue, yeah, I know. _You're_ the one who said you were horny."

Dean ignores him, and drops his head lower to nuzzle at Sam's balls.

Sam sighs, partly because his brother is a jerk and partly because what he's doing feels really, really good. "Y'know, if we knock this one out quick? Bet we could do it again later. And … again."

Dean chuckles. "Ambitious."

Sam's negotiating works, though. Dean hooks his thumbs under the elastic waistband of Sam's boxers and pulls them down slowly, Sam's cock slipping free slapping against his abdomen. Dean gets his underwear right off, tosses them behind himself, and then picks Sam's cock up and practically swallows it whole in one swift movement. Sam wasn't expecting it, and the sudden wet heat around his aching erection hits him like a punch to the gut.

"_Fuck_," he mutters.

Dean looks up at him, his eyes wide and dark and his lips stretched around Sam's hard flesh, starting to bob his head and not breaking eye-contact. Sam's skin tingles and his cock twitches in Dean's mouth, arousal wrapping him up tight, and can't look away from his brother's intense gaze. Dean sucks and swallows around him, his tongue pressing into all the right spots and lighting Sam up inside. It's intoxicating – the way he makes Sam feel, and how fucking good he looks doing it.

He slowly moves his head down again, Sam's cock sliding into the back of his throat, and swallows, and Sam moans loudly and falls down onto his back again. His hips rock up as much as he tries to stop them, chasing after the warmth and the sensation, and Dean lets him for a minute or two, until Sam is _almost_ there and then he pins Sam's hips down with his strong hands.

Sam moans in frustration this time, and hears his stupid brother laughing softly. He reaches out to smack him but catches only air.

Dean lifts up until only the head of Sam's cock is still in his mouth, and he swirls his tongue in tantalizing circles around it while he drags a finger through the mess of spit and precome dribbling down Sam's shaft. He nudges at Sam's right leg with his arm; Sam lifts it up and plants his foot on the mattress, unsure of what Dean's trying to do but trusting him. Then Dean bobs his head again, going for broke, Sam's cock sliding quickly in and out of his mouth, while he shoves a finger into Sam in one long, even thrust.

Powerful pleasure and brief pain get all mixed up in Sam's brain until he doesn't know what to feel, whether he should rock up into Dean's mouth or down against his hand. Dean finds his prostate with practiced ease and presses against it, not letting up, not letting Sam get used to it. It's too much all at once, overloading his senses and lighting him on fire.

"Dean," Sam rasps, warning, and Dean ignores it.

Sam's whole body tenses and releases, like lightening, and he grunts as it overwhelms him and pushes him over the edge and he comes onto his brother's tongue. Dean moans too, swallowing around him and still rubbing against his prostate and by the time it's over Sam's not sure he'll ever be able to move again even if he wanted to. Dean sucks gently at his cock until it doesn't feel good anymore and Sam pushes weakly at his shoulder, and then he crawls back up Sam's body and leans down to kiss him. The taste of himself on Dean's tongue makes Sam shiver again, and the way Dean kisses him, slow and intense like he's trying to meld their souls together, takes away what little breath Sam had left.

Eventually Sam's limbs start to work again, and he wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and squeezes one hand around the back of Dean's neck.

"Worth the wait?" Dean asks, like he doesn't already know the answer.

"Well, hopefully we never have to go celibate again for that _particular_ reason, but yes. That was fun."

Dean chuckles softly. "_Fun_, he says. Like I didn't just suck your brain out through your dick."

"You kinda did. I might be the dumb one now."

"Meaning I was the dumb one before?" Dean asks with a raised eyebrow. "Nice."

"I was kidding. So, you think Chuck's watching?" Sam jokes, laughing when Dean groans loudly.

"Fuck off. Now that's burned into my brain."

Sam smiles at him. He nudges Dean over onto his back and crawls on top of him, smearing kisses along his chest, tongue laving over his pale, freckled skin, as he moves down Dean's body. "Bet I could take your mind off it."

* * *

"Wanna hear something sappy?" Dean asks quietly.

Sam's pressed up against his side, his head pillowed on Dean's chest. Dean's arm is under Sam's neck, bent at the elbow, his fingers running through Sam's messy hair. They're sweaty and sticky and tired and Sam couldn't be happier about it. "Sure."

"Those two guys, the ones who helped us with the hunt?"

"What about them?"

"They said some stuff to me earlier. When you were talking to Becky and Chuck. About us."

"About you and me?"

"Yeah."

Sam shifts a little so he's just that much closer to his brother. He brings his arm up so he can rest his palm over Dean's tattoo. "Okay. Tell me."

"Just stuff about … how, yeah, our lives are bowls of dog shit sometimes. But we've got something good too, 'cause we have each other. Or whatever." Dean's chest moves just slightly against Sam, like he's uncomfortable but is trying not to be.

"Orgasms on demand?" Sam asks, to lighten the moment.

Dean laughs softly. "It's definitely a perk, right?"

"It is."

"That's probably not exactly what they were talking about. Although, they also told me they were together. Y'know, _together_. So maybe that is what they were talking about."

"They did like to dress up as us. Or larp, or whatever." Sam frowns as a particularly disturbing thought crosses his mind. "Oh God, do you think they … role play? Like, pretend to be us while they're …?"

Dean shudders. "Okay, you really need to stop saying things like that. I could have very happily gone the rest of my life without that thought."

"That whole hunt was a trip, man. All those people dressed like us or things we've hunted or whatever."

"Yeah, it was. But anyway. I'm not havin' any kina life-changing revelations based on what two larping crack-pots had to say. But what they said … it's true, in a way."

"That our life is secretly awesome?" Sam asks.

"No. Just that … I don't know. We've got each other. And yeah, maybe it's not much. But it's a hell of a lot more than some people have. Especially most hunters."

Sam nods. He moves the tip of his finger in a circle, along the lines of Dean's tattoo, and then traces the pentagram in the center. "They weren't wrong."

Dean doesn't answer, but he turns his head toward Sam so his mouth is resting on Sam's forehead. Sam closes his eyes and breathes his brother in, floats in the comfort and familiarity of being in his arms.

"I couldn't do this without you." He means it to sound light and casual but it comes out serious and sentimental and he cringes.

But Dean just hugs him tighter. "Me neither," he whispers back, his lips catching against Sam's skin.

Sam tips his head up a little and kisses his brother's neck. "You wanna go again?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah. Not that I don't love your mouth. Just …" Sam doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. Dean knows what he means.

"Me too." Dean pulls Sam on top of him and kisses him, sliding his hand slowly down Sam's spine and slipping his fingers between the cheeks of Sam's ass. "This?"

"Yeah." Sam should be embarrassed about how much he wants it, but it's Dean, so he isn't. It's just _them_. It's how they communicate; how they say all the things words can't do justice to. So Sam doesn't care.


End file.
